


Same Smile, Different Face

by LadybugSin



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Guilt, Identity Reveal, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Violence, Lovers to Friends, Manipulation, Second Chances, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugSin/pseuds/LadybugSin
Summary: He only meant to pretend for a few months. He didn't mean to see his wife in her smile. And he certainly didn't plan on falling in love with her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinfulpapillon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinfulpapillon/gifts).



> Happy birthday, honey! Okay, no, this is actually a super late present and I'm so sorry. But you asked for Marimoth angst, so you're getting a boatload of it! Enjoy!

It took him a few years, but the similarities he noticed seemed to plague him at every turn. Was this some sort of curse, he wondered? A curse planned by the spirit within his wife’s former miraculous sent to haunt him at every which way the longer it took him to go through with his plan?

No. No, Duusu wouldn’t be able to formulate something like that. Not while she was trapped in the miraculous, of course. And she certainly wouldn’t be able to execute a plan that was lasting for a little over six years, he _knew_ this.

When that Dupain-Cheng girl had stumbled upon his lair, he expected her to unmask him then and there, to transform without a worry into Ladybug and have a final battle against him to put a stop to his reign of terror once and for all. Even now, he still didn’t know how Marinette had found his hideaway. Sheer dumb luck, it seemed, since she didn’t utter a peep about his true identity.

Unless she was hiding that as well?

No, no, if she had known it was him, she would have revealed it by now. Then again, he wasn’t saying anything about how he knew she was Ladybug and how he knew those earrings weren’t normal earrings. If this could just last a little bit longer, if he could subtly influence her into handing them over and-

“Hawkmoth!”

Her voice caught him off guard. Was today a day she had been coming by? Of course it was, otherwise he would be in his office, trying to pretend everything was normal instead of being here, waiting for Marinette to arrive and brighten his day a bit with her mere presence. . .

And with her smile. . .

The smile that once graced the lips of his wife, the smile that used to be followed by joyful laughter.

That was the same damn smile. . . But it was on a different face.

The wrong face.

This was the curse, he knew. And it wasn’t just her smile, oh no, certainly not.

Sometimes it was _her_ mannerisms. Other times, it was _her_ words. If he closed his eyes, he could hear _her_ voice instead of Marinette’s own, pretend that it was _her_ standing there, flitting about the lair, rambling about whatever concern was on her mind that day as Duusu hovered by her shoulder.

He easily pretended that he didn’t notice the little speck of red that darted about the young designer’s own shoulder, not wanting to reveal that he knew just who the woman in his domain truly was.

Hawkmoth realized after a moment that there was a smile on his face. Damn her and her ability to make him smile. It would all be worth it though. He could endure this. She was falling in love with him. She visited him every so often (on his schedule, of course, he couldn’t just let her wander in and catch him arriving without his transformation in place) and kept him company.

He didn’t want to admit it, but having her around was nice, enjoyable even. It was the only reason this charade of his was lasting for so long and his plan was still not at the final stage.

A plan that should have taken mere months to act upon. Instead, here he is, two years later, pretending to be in love with a twenty-six year old woman that could have turned him into the authorities when she found him five years ago.

Of course, that’s why he jumped at the chance to play upon her emotions. Trap her, keep her around him for a bit. . . And then go over and make sure she felt okay, let her know he wouldn’t hurt her and, after being asked what he knew the other would view as the right questions, tell her his plan.

Well, not his full plan, no. Hawkmoth revealed what he thought necessary to make the girl attached. Tell her about Emilie (without giving her name, mind you) and say that he couldn’t think of any other way but be a villain to bring out the miraculous jewels that he needed.

It was simply a _delight_ when it ended up making his own enemy start to fall in love with him. It meant that he had her trust, her own **heart** _resting_ in his palm. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to get Marinette to admit that she was Ladybug and agree to hand over her earrings and get her partner’s ring. . .

But he didn’t count on the damn **smile**. Yes, that was the only reason his plan wasn’t complete, the only reason he hadn’t taken the earrings himself or made her hand them over.

It wasn’t the love struck look in her eyes that had a certain gleam to them in just the right lighting, just like Emilie. It definitely wasn’t the way she moved about his lair, butterflies landing on her shoulders or perching on her hands when she held them out, exactly like with Emilie. And no, oh no, it had nothing to do with how soft her voice got, as if she was telling him secrets with each breath she took.

Only Emilie’s voice could go so soft.

He refused to let his mind draw similarities between them, ignored any of them, really. He didn’t want to think about how soft her lips were, just like _hers_ , or how she would try to stay quiet despite the fact that only he could hear the moans he drew from her, almost like they were an echo of _her_ own. The only thing about Marinette that reminded him of Emilie was her smile, nothing more.

Pushing his thoughts to the side, he let himself be pulled into another conversation about the young woman’s day, adding in his own comments when able to, and finding himself still unable to rip those damn earrings from her.

One day he would be able to though. One day. One day.

***

It was a few days later that he found himself pacing around his office, a fact now glaringly obvious to him.

Emilie was haunting him. And she was doing so through Marinette. An unfortunate side effect to this ‘haunting’ that he was so certain his wife’s spirit was putting him through was the sudden spiraling downfall of him _falling in love_ with the young designer.

He was manipulating her, her heart right in his hands, ready to be dropped and shattered into thousands of pieces. He could tell, just from the emotions that _radiated_ off of her even when they were discussing business and she was _clueless_ to the fact that her own boss was her lover, that Marinette had fallen into his plan far too well and was deeply in love with Paris’ monster.

But if the light hit her eyes just right, if she smiled just a bit too wide, if she just. . . Just. . . !

Gabriel let out a frustrated shout, barely able to contain it any longer. He wanted his wife back, but not like this! He didn’t want to start seeing his wife in the girl that was a temporary replacement. Hell, he would even bring up Emilie when he could, as if to remind her (and himself) that he still wanted to bring her back. Marinette would, predictably, look crestfallen each time he would talk about needing the miraculouses for that reason, would even look **guilty** as he brought up each defeat and how he felt like it was becoming pointless to keep trying.

He didn’t want to start falling in love with the girl that was supposed to be a means to an end.

“Nooroo, this wasn’t the damn plan! This was never the damn plan! Every single time I see her, it. . . It feels like she’s already back. It feels like I have her in my arms already. . . But then it all comes shattering when I remember that Emilie is still _gone_ , and this girl is _still_ here!”

Nooroo, for his part, remained silent. After all, what could a kwami do when their holder was frantic about their own emotions? Well. Okay. He might be able to do something, seeing as how the butterfly miraculous was tied to emotions and its kwami might have more than a basic understanding of them, but Gabriel didn’t actually know or even care what the small god could do.

If Gabriel was to become even more frantic though, he would probably be knocking things off of his desk and having a harder time to breathe. And with that thought, Gabriel found himself moving to sit down, taking deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts and go back to some level of calm. What was he supposed to do?

“Master. . . If. . . If I may speak. . . Maybe this is a sign. . . ?”

Gabriel nearly didn’t realize his kwami was speaking. He used such a soft voice that it was so easy to ignore it. Just like he normally would.

The words only registered in his head when they were spoken again, but more insistent this time around, and with Nooroo hovering before his face. Very rarely did he come so close to him, seeing as how they weren’t exactly on friendly terms. But the longer Marinette was around him, the longer Nooroo stayed out of his brooch or any of the hiding places that Gabriel would slap him into and keep him away from everything.

No, no, stop thinking about her!

The man lowered his gaze, trying to pretend that he didn’t see Nooroo, that he didn’t hear him and get what he was implying.

That it was time to move on. Move on from Emilie. Make a start for a new life, a new relationship. He kept failing at each turn, he kept getting closer to his foe, close enough to fall in love. . . But it was wrong, wasn’t it? Wrong to fall in love with a person that had so many similarities to his wife.

Wrong to move on with someone that he manipulated the feelings of for the past few years. Because of that, he knew she didn’t love him, and he didn’t even love her! He was in love with the memory of his wife, which was being revived every moment he was in the same area as Marinette.

He was even having difficulties with staying professional with her. How many times had he felt the urge to undo her pigtails or that messy bun she would have rushed to put her hair into just so he could run his fingers through dark locks? How many times has he wanted to grab her and kiss her for no real reason? He shouldn’t be having such desires.

It was _Hawkmoth_ who wanted to run his fingers through the young woman’s hair, _Hawkmoth_ who wanted to grab her and kiss her, it was- When did he start thinking of Hawkmoth as a separate part of himself? Was it to keep himself from accepting that yes, he wanted to be the one to do such things with Marinette and have no mask to hide who he truly was?

Gabriel sighed, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Nooroo. . .”

The poor thing seemed hopeful when he perked up at his name being said. Oh, this was not going to be an enjoyable thing to tell a kwami centered around emotions. He knew that Nooroo was just trying to help, even with all the turmoil he had put him through and caused him to endure for eleven years. Yes, he lessened his amount of akumas as time went on (and the longer Marinette was around) but that didn’t make his abuse towards his own kwami okay.

He was definitely going to have to purchase a giant bag of gummi treats for him after this.

“I _have_ to get Emilie back. I can’t just. . . Just move on like that. . . And I certainly can’t move on by getting with a ghost, Nooroo. I’ll have my wife back. Of course I’ll have her back. We’re so close, so close!” He slipped his glasses back on, looking straight ahead past the kwami, trying to bottle up his emotions all over again. This was all just a minor slip up. It wasn’t going to be one that would happen again.

“Master. . . M-master, please, consider it! You’ve been alone for so long, and Marinette. . . Marinette makes you happy. She makes you better, I think.” The small god visibly deflated, but it didn’t stop him from trying to get through to his wielder. “If you were to just give it a chance!”

“Nooroo.”

The sharpness in Gabriel’s tone was all it took to quiet the kwami. This was the nature of their relationship after all, and he couldn’t have what is supposed to be a tool speak out of term. Especially when it came to matters on the heart.

And his heart did not belong to Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It didn’t belong to that damn _Ladybug_.

It still belonged to the lost Emilie Agreste.

Moving on would be best, yes. But he was in love with a ghost in the end. And he couldn’t find a way to let go of this obsession, let alone tell his son that his mother was truly gone.

The silence was deafening around the both of them until Gabriel let out a huff.

“One last akuma, Nooroo. One last akuma that will be so cruel, so devastating, that even after she defeats it, Ladybug will surrender her earrings. I just. . . I just have to play this right.”

***

He made good on his plan. His latest akuma was a recent widower, a man who had argued with his wife and didn’t bother to resolve it, only to learn several hours later that she had died in a car crash. Of course the man blamed himself for letting her leave in anger. Of course he had been willing to do as Hawkmoth desired once the akuma had entered his deceased wife’s wedding ring. Of course he had demanded that Ladybug and Chat Noir hand over their miraculouses. Of course those two _idiots_ said no and fought back.

It was a broken record, honestly.

But for once, something happened that Hawkmoth had somewhat been counting on.

Ladybug – no, _Marinette_ – actually hesitated this time.

She had hesitated and those moments had nearly cost her and Chat the battle. He would have won, but she still won in the end. Yes, she and Chat had gotten knocked around a bit more than the last few fights, and he could have sworn that he saw tears in the armor given to the two young heroes through his akuma’s eyes.

Imagine everyone’s shock and surprise, his own especially, when Ladybug’s miraculous cure didn’t heal the heroes as perfectly as it always would. Bruises still littered their skin, any cuts and the like still open, still bleeding.

Hawkmoth could only take a guess at how badly his son was hurt. Were any bones broken? Did he have a black eye? Did Nathalie or the Gorilla see that he was clearly in no good shape and take him to a hospital despite any protests the young man would make? No, no, he had hired them because they could treat such injuries. There would be no need to get him into a hospital and therefore unmask him as Chat Noir.

But what if he had internal injuries that he didn’t know about? What if-

This wasn’t in any of his plans. This certainly wasn’t the reason he had made this akuma. He wanted it to be difficult, he didn’t want his son hurt. Hell, he might be using her to get the earrings, but he didn’t even want Marinette hurt. Not like this anyway.

And yet she hesitated. She hesitated so many times that she was injured the most. She was supposed to come by today, too. He had effectively turned her away without the poor girl even realizing it. She wouldn’t come by if she had injuries to tend to, right? No, no, she’d stay home and recover, she wouldn’t dare show up now.

Hawkmoth was mere moments from releasing his transformation when he heard the hatch leading to the lair open up. He stiffened, actually thinking that someone else had found him this time.

But there was nothing but silence for a long time, and it was only when he heard someone weakly attempt to hide a pained whine (a whine he knew all too well at this point in time), nothing stopped him from running over to the hatch and being shocked for the second time that day.

There was Marinette, trying to make her way into the lair, bandaged up, eyes big and red from what he could only guess was an excessive amount of crying, and her skin far paler than he thought it could go. It was like she was a ghost.

She whimpered once more, and that caused him to actually move out of his stunned state of mind, hurrying to open the hatch the rest of the way and carefully, gently, pull her up and into his arms. He couldn’t even think to have both of them standing up, finding himself sitting on the floor, holding the injured designer close to him.

Again.

He had nearly lost someone _again_.

Marinette stirred in his grasp, but he refused to let go, pressing his lips to the top of her head, mumbling all kinds of apologies that she couldn’t even hear into dark locks.

He did this to her. **_He_** did _this_ to **_her_**. Her, the woman he was falling for despite all the pain and lies he was putting her through. Her, the woman who would visit him if she ever had the chance, knowing he was her enemy yet still arriving with that blinding smile on her face that chased away his darkness. God, how could he be so stupid and actually think that this akuma would be fine?

It had more power than the rest because the negativity that man felt was so close to his own feelings about losing Emilie. And now. . . Now those feelings were about this. About nearly killing Marinette.

Not _Ladybug_.

 **Marinette**.

The woman in his arms stirred again, managing to push herself back just enough to look up at him. He could practically _count_ the freckles dusting her nose, she was so pale.

“I-I’m sorry. . . I’m so sorry!” she suddenly said, blue eyes growing wet with tears. How many times had she cried today? He couldn’t even find his voice to ask or say anything for that matter.

“Marinette, you-”

“I’m sorry, Hawkmoth! I. . . Y-your latest akuma. . . H-he reminded me of you. . . There was a permanent pain in his eyes, he. . . G-god, he would cry out for his wife, as if that would bring her back! And y-you probably don’t even k-know why I heard that, w-why I’m even like this. . .”

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his lips dry and cracked. She didn’t know. She didn’t know he had watched the akuma injure her and tear through her armor. She didn’t know that he was to blame. He couldn’t keep this act up. He couldn’t!

“Y-you were out there. . . As-”

“No! I-I mean, yes, I-I was out there, but I didn’t get caught up! I was fighting him! I-I was fighting The Widower!”

No. No, no, **_no_ ** , he didn’t want to hear this, not again! It was _her_ all over again! It was _her_ , wandering into his room through an open window, blonde hair ruined, teeth and lips stained with blood, her miraculous armor just barely holding together with more red staining the material and making the blues harder to pick out. It was _her_ , telling him that she was fine, that the chimera (a **chimera** of all things!) was no problem and she had it covered.

It was **_Emilie_** just barely living due to Duusu forcing the transformation to hold out until she got somewhere she could get help. But she still nearly died there in her newly wed husband’s arms that night.

“I-I’m Ladybug. . . H-Hawkmoth, I’m Ladybug. . .” Tears were trailing down her cheeks now. If he could just will himself to move, he could be brushing them away. But he could only see blonde hair, green eyes, and red.

So much red.

Whatever she was saying now was falling on deaf ears. He felt too much from her, far too much. Too much fear, too much panic, too much guilt. He had expected the akuma to make her feel guilty, but this? This was far more than he had been planning. He didn’t count on the pain it had put her through, he didn’t count on the panic or the fear.

He just wanted to give her a push to finally hand over those earrings and ended up shoving her instead.

“I-I’ve been keeping you from y-your wife, a-and. . . I’m so sorry. . .”

She was shifting again, reaching up to remove her earrings and willingly hand them over.

Hawkmoth tightened his hold on her, not hearing her suck in a breath, shaking his head. He was still seeing Emilie, seeing her reach for her pin and therefore risk her own life just to drop her stupid transformation!

“If you do that, you’re going to die! I can’t have you risking that!” he suddenly said, his voice rising higher than it had before, unable to hide any of his emotions now, all of them spilling out. If anyone else was an empath or even had this miraculous, it would be a damn storm raging from him.

“You just had to go out there, even though you swore you wouldn’t. You promised it was a short patrol, nothing more. But then you were on the news, there was footage of you and the fight and. . . _Dammit, Emilie, you’re not indestructible as Le Paon_! What would I have done if I had lost you to that. . . That _thing_?! I would have. . . I-I would have. . .”

He was shaking, the realization dawning on him that he wasn’t holding a nearly dead Emilie. It was Marinette still in his arms, blue eyes wide and cheeks stained from her tears. Marinette, who had been mere moments away from handing over her miraculous and allowing him to be a step closer to getting his wife back.

Marinette. . . Who was staring at him with fear and confusion.

Hawkmoth dropped his transformation without a word, revealing a panicked Gabriel Agreste in his place. He could only meet Marinette’s gaze for a moment before breaking away, his hold on her loosening.

“Ah. . . M-Mr. Agreste. . . ?” Marinette’s voice was just barely a whisper. He couldn’t read any of her emotions off of her, not completely.

She was still scared, still guilty. But now there was confusion, mistrust, and he could get a taste of something that could fester into a boiling rage.

“Leave.”

The young woman opened her mouth, possibly to argue, but he was quick to cut her off.

“Leave, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Your parents must be worried about you.”

She didn’t leave, not right away at least. Her confusion was only mounting as the seconds ticked by, the both of them still on the floor, Gabriel still holding her like she was the most precious thing in his world.

She _could_ have been just that.

Marinette’s movements weren’t fluid, her body still weak from facing The Widower. Her emotions were beginning to mute, but he could still sense them, billowing around her, trying to be sorted out about this entire situation.

Was she realizing the manipulations? Was she realizing that everything was a lie?

Gabriel didn’t realize he had been clinging to those hints of emotions until he was left in pure silence.

***

He lost track of time after that night. He had lost track of the days, the nights, the moments in between. Adrien had even surprised him with a visit one day, a girl practically latched on his arm. She looked familiar, a former akuma perhaps?

No, no, he was _done_ thinking of all of that, he was _done_ with akumas, with magic, with the miraculouses. . .

Yet he **still** clung to his own like a lifeline. He didn’t even need it anymore, but without it, it was like things were becoming muted. And he needed to feel _it_.

What was it? It was Marinette’s _anger_ that would radiate off of her in waves, her _disgust_ towards him for what he had done to her, her _coldness_ that she hid behind a near perfect poker face if they ever needed to speak with each other for longer than five scant seconds.

Even her confusion towards him, perhaps hinting that she still had some sort of feelings for him. But he couldn’t hope on that, couldn’t dare to. The woman was probably moving on by now. No. No, _had_ moved on by now, had most likely moved on with someone else she knew, seeing as how Adrien wasn’t exactly the most available man at the time.

Nooroo was flitting about the office, a gummi treat held in his grasp, as if this was his form of pacing. And worrying, going off of the expression on his face.

“What?” Gabriel snapped, not entirely meaning for his single word to sound so harsh. Perhaps this is what happens when a happy life is once more in a person’s hold and they crush it and toss it like last week’s trash.

Nooroo didn’t stop flitting, but his path changed. Instead of going from the desk to the window and then back, he was now going between the desk and the door. And, of course, he was still giving no answer to the man that used to be Paris’ greatest nightmare.

Gabriel was about to call out to him - with the use of his name this time - when there was a knock on his office door. The emotional signature on the other side struck him suddenly, as if he had been ignoring it the entire day. Of course, he had been ignoring it, but he wasn’t going to say that, especially not to Nooroo or even _her_.

“Come in.”

It had taken him a moment to find his voice, to force out those two words. Was this how they would always be?

Marinette entered the room and, to his surprise, locked the door behind her. Ah. She wanted to talk with him privately then. The last time they had talked privately. . . Well, that was before she knew he was the man she thought to be in love with. But even then she hadn’t locked the door, which meant that this was probably going to be about what had happened.

They ended up speaking at the same time.

“I want to resign-”

“I’m sorry about everything-”

Both of them stopped, staring at one another.

“What? You’re _sorry_?!”

Gabriel could only meet her gaze for so long before tearing it away, focusing it on his desk. He had nothing to say in response. How could he back up that he was sorry? It wasn’t a lie, but he couldn’t fault her if that was what she would think. After all. . . She spent years falling in love with him, falling in love with a lie. She had every right to not believe a single word that would come out of his mouth at this point.

Pure rage was rolling off of her now, and all he could do was wait and see what would come of it.

But she just stood there, rage festering around her. He sighed, pushing away from his desk to stand up and walk around to approach her. He could feel Nooroo’s gaze land on the back of his head, as if warning him to not go to the clearly upset woman that had locked the both of them in his office for some unknown reason.

He was not expecting her to pull back her first and punch him right in the face.

“You don’t get to _be sorry_ , Gabriel!” she shouted, not even waiting for the designer to recover from the first punch before going at him with a second one. All things considering, he felt like he deserved it. There was too much bottled up rage in Marinette, and it seemed to at least go down a bit when she’d throw her fists at him.

Even if the target was his face.

“For years, years, Gabriel, I wanted to help! But all you did was twist your words around me, wrapping me up in a web that was going to. . . To what?! Get you your wife back?” She paused, breathing heavily, her anger slowly starting to fade away in pain and heartbreak.

“Marinette-”

“No. You. . . You don’t get to speak, not right now, maybe not ever! I would see you act weird sometimes. Like. . . Like you were seeing someone else, like you had seen a damn _ghost_! And then the night you sent The Widower. . . And believe me, I already figured that was your stupid last ditch effort to get my earrings. But you were so panicked, so scared, and then you started calling me Emilie! You thought you were with her, not me, and I feel like such an idiot for ever thinking I could get through to you, to help you in any way!”

He knew what she meant. Before he went fully into his plan, he had let her entertain the thought of making him stop by being a constant, bright presence in his life. Had he not been so focused on bringing his wife back, then, perhaps it would have worked. Perhaps he wouldn’t have sent out harsher and stronger akumas. Perhaps he would have let her fall in love with him naturally, and he in turn would learn to love her back.

God, he had screwed this up terribly.

"What was I to you? The vision of a ghost? A replacement to your wife? Or was I just some _pawn_ in your game to restore your queen?"

"Marinette-"

Gabriel didn't get the chance to continue, the young designer cutting him off nearly the moment her name passed his lips.

"I am _not_ a replacement for your wife! And I'm certainly not your wife, nor will I _ever_ be her!"

There was a pause after those words. Gabriel could only lower his head in shame. What was he supposed to do now? How could he salvage their relationship? Was there even a relationship to salvage?

He just wanted the woman he loved in his arms again. And for once, he saw _Marinette_ as that woman, _not_ Emilie.

Not even his own wife remained in his imaginings.

". . . But I wanted to be your wife. I. . . I still want that, sometimes."

Her words were so hushed, that he nearly missed them, his head snapping up once the sentences registered in his mind.

Perhaps. . . Perhaps he could save this after all.

But how? How could he save something that wasn’t exactly there to begin with?

“Obviously. . . We can’t continue from where we left off,” he said, moving to clasp his hands behind his back and ignore the throbbing ache that was currently overtaking his entire face. He knew the girl threw her punches hard, but he had never been on the receiving end of them until now. No wonder his akumas didn’t really enjoy fighting her in the end if it had to be a close combat fight.

And he meant what he said. They couldn’t continue from where they left off. Their entire romance was built upon a lie and filled with manipulations. Even now, he only partially regretted them, but he could see how much these lies and manipulations had harmed Marinette. He saw it make her more closed off, more likely to give the cold shoulder to even those close to her that wouldn’t have done what he did.

They could only go back to square one.

“What we had. . . Wasn’t what you wanted, I admit. And I truly did start seeing my wife in you. I thought it was some sort of curse placed upon me. Nooroo, he. . . He tried to convince me to let go of Emilie and move on. Move on with you, specifically.”

That caused Marinette to arch an eyebrow at him. He was speaking a bit more openly, but he had to get things across. He had to see what they could even build out of this.

“But you can’t move on with someone if you don’t truly love them. You only loved me because I made you love me. I lied, I cheated my way into your heart, and, effectively, turned you into a puppet.” He could feel her rage billow beneath the surface, but did nothing to diffuse it. He wasn’t expecting forgiveness just yet.

“In the end. . . I realized how much I cared. When I saw you, hesitating against The Widower, when I watched him nearly destroy you. . . I realized how desperately I needed _you_ by my side. **Not**  Emilie.”

Marinette took a deep breath, and he could tell she was trying to figure out her words, trying to sort through her emotions. It was like a ticking time bomb of sorts. Would he get a good reaction? A bad reaction? Would she just leave without saying a word and go through with resigning? Ah, he still had to see if she wanted to resign. He could only think that she was doing so because she didn’t want to be around him anymore.

“. . . We didn’t have much that wasn’t professional as ourselves. . . And I always felt like I was lying to you. Both sides of you. We can’t start from where we left off, but. . . We can start all over?” Marinette sounded so. . . small. Almost like it was still after the fight with his last akuma. If he closed his eyes long enough, he’d open them again to see her bloodied and bruised once more.

Those were not fun days in the office either. He had to divert attention from her bandaged form and- no, no, stop getting distracted, focus on the task at hand!

“That won’t be easy, starting all over. I know it’ll be difficult for me. I. . . I have yet to return my miraculous, but I haven’t dared to transform or make another akuma. I was. . . considering assisting you and Chat Noir, if it came down to it. I understand if neither of you desire that of course.”

He caught a brief hint of relief from her, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to his admittance to ending his supervillain career or that he offered to be a third member of her team.

“I also. . . Do see Emilie in you, Marinette. You both share the same smile, there’s this. . . This light in your eyes that is like hers, and. . .” He sighed. “You’re not a ghost. You’re _nothing_ like Emilie but I kept seeing similarities and that was why I didn’t steal your miraculous the moment you arrived in my lair.”

“Gabriel. . . I’m not her. I’m never going to be her. If we’re going to make. . . Whatever this is, whatever we end up making it. . . We need to learn who we are. Properly learn. I need to learn who Gabriel Agreste is. And you-” Marinette began, motioning for him to continue.

“I need to learn who Marinette Dupain-Cheng is,” Gabriel finished, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He then held his hand out to her. “Shall we begin, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

There was a moment of hesitance before she accepted his hand, the hint of her own smile on her face. He didn’t even need the latent abilities from his miraculous to tell that she was happy at this turn of events.

“I would love to, Mr. Agreste.”

This wasn’t what they had before, and that was good. He wanted to learn who she was, and she wanted to learn who he was. This wasn’t going to be easy, they both knew that. They had gone through a lot in the past few years. They were enemies, then they were friends, and then they had become lovers. Now they were something like friends again. No, no, that was the wrong word, but it was the best he could come up with right now.

He had nearly killed her countless times as well as used her. Nothing would be easy to move past that. That would be one of many topics to come up in any of the arguments he was sure they would have.

But she was allowing him a second chance. The woman with the same smile as his wife.

The woman he wanted to truly fall in love with. Not a ghost.

Gabriel Agreste wanted to truly learn about and fall in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He finally wanted to move on and be happy.

This was just that first step. A hello given and names exchanged.

It could only go up from here.


End file.
